


Borrowed Time

by K_K_TiBal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Canon Compliant, M/M, canon!verse, in which castiel is old as balls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 17:25:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8809531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_K_TiBal/pseuds/K_K_TiBal
Summary: Dean realizes just how old Castiel is.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you [whelvenwings](http://whelvenwings.tumblr.com) for helping end this godforsaken ficlet. You the real MVP.

They all knew that Castiel didn’t sleep, so he wasn’t sure why the Winchesters had given him a bed. 

Or an entire room, for that matter. 

It was a gesture that he appreciated, however, to be given a space all of his own in the midst of a place that the Winchesters called “home”. It meant more to him that he thought he could possibly put into words, though he had tried on a few occasions before. 

Castiel blinked when his phone showed an empty battery signal on the screen and reached over to the desk to plug it in before it died and ended his game of Tetris before he was ready for it to end. 

Unfortunately, the charger that usually rested on the nightstand was missing, and it only took a few moments for Castiel to realize that he’d left it in the kitchen that morning before they’d headed out for the day. 

He could have easily used his grace to simply appear in the kitchen with just a thought, but he enjoyed the sounds of his footprints echoing throughout the bunker as he walked down the long hallways, and so he slowly walked his way into the kitchen. 

The bunker was dark during the night with all the lights turned off - not that it mattered for him, but it felt different than it usually did during the day.

To his surprise, when he arrived in the kitchen, it wasn’t empty. 

“Dean?” he asked, squinting at the figure in the darkness as he sat at the table. “What are you doing? You should be asleep.”

At first, Dean said nothing - just continued to stare at the bottles of beer he had lined up in front of him. After a few moments’ pause, Dean looked up at him in a way that seemed like he was looking at a stranger. 

“Dean? Are -”

“How old are you, Cas?”

Castiel was thrown off, both by the question and by the gravelly tone to Dean’s voice that wasn’t normally there.

“Very,” he replied, tilting his head to the side. 

Dean nodded slowly and tapped the top of the first bottle in the line. 

“ _ How  _ very?”

Castiel frowned. 

“I - I don’t know, exactly,” he said carefully.

That was a lie. Castiel knew exactly how much time had passed since the moment of his creation down to the second, but he also knew the limitations of the human mind and what it would take to make them uneasy. So instead of giving Dean the exact number, he lied. 

That was something that Dean had taught him. 

“That old, huh?” Dean pursed his lips and turned his gaze back to the beer. 

“I suppose,” Castiel said as he took a step forward. “After my father created the angels, he started on creating a world for us to look after. I’ve been here since before your world was even a considered reality, so I guess you could say I’m very old.” 

Dean let out a huff of air that half sounded like a laugh of disbelief, and put Castiel a little on edge. 

“Are you alright, Dean?” he asked, concern now leaking into his voice. 

Dean tapped on another bottle lid before popping it off and taking a long swig. 

“You know,” he began, and set the bottle back on the table, “When I was a kid, my dad would have me sit with him during stakeouts. Never long ones. Usually just an hour. But that hour felt like a fucking eternity to me, man. It was the longest time of my life. Now, an hour is  _ nothing,  _ Cas. It’s nothing.”

Castiel stood in silence, studying the man at the table as he spoke. 

“How long’ve we known each other?” 

Castiel slowly walked to the table and pulled out a chair next to Dean. “Almost nine years, Dean.” 

Dean whistled and took another swig. “Nine years. That’s a long time to know someone.”

“It is,” Castiel agreed. 

“Is it, though?” Dean turned to look over at him, his eyes almost accusing. “That’s pretty much a quarter of my life, Cas. Do you realize that? An entire quarter of my life has been spent knowing you exist.”

Castiel blinked. 

“But to  _ you, _ ” Dean turned his face away and shook his head. “It’s been. . . nothing. Blink of an eye. Nine years to you is probably less than a Sunday afternoon, isn’t it. Hell, if you’d sneezed while I was born you might have missed my entire life.”

“Dean,” Castiel reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder, but it didn’t keep him from rambling. 

“There have been  _ trillions _ of lives that you’ve seen from beginning to end without even batting your eye.” Dean wasn’t even looking at him; he was just gesturing towards the wall in front of him. “Sam and me, we’re gonna die one day, and you’re just gonna keep going. New people. New lives. We’re just a little blip on your timeline. A small, miniscule, unimportant -”

“ _ Dean.” _ Castiel reached out and gently - but firmly - took Dean’s face in both hands, forcing him to stare him in the eyes. “You were the  _ first _ .”

Dean’s mouth hung open mid-phrase as he stared back at him, obviously trying to translate what Castiel had said. “First what?”

“The first. . .for everything,” Castiel took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Yes, Dean. I am old. I’ve lived longer than you can possibly imagine. But you. . . you were the first. The first to ask me my opinion.The first to make me question who I am. The first to make me wonder if there’s something more to me than what I was created to be. The first to make me care.”

Dean’s jaw went slack in his hold, and Castiel slowly let him go. 

“I wish you could know how much these nine years have meant to me.” He said with a swallow. “I’ve changed more in this “small blip”, as you call it, than in an eternity. And I thank you for that.”

Dean slowly shook his head again. “But - to you, I’m  _ nothing.” _

“You’re  _ everything.” _ Castiel clenched a fist on the table, wishing that there was some way to get it through his head. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned during the course of my existence, it’s that the length of time doesn’t matter. What does matter is how you use that time.”

There was a long pause where neither of them said anything. 

“I promise I’ll never forget you, Dean Winchester.”

Dean sniffed and rubbed at his nose. “No chick flick moments, man.” he muttered, his voice thick. 

Castiel pulled Dean into a hug, crushing him close to his chest before Dean’s walls rebuilt. 

“I promise.”

He felt Dean relax into it after a few moments and bury his face into his trench coat with shuddering breaths. 

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean mumbled into his shoulder. 

Cas breathed out slowly, letting his chin rest more securely on Dean’s shoulder. The warmth of him, the strength, was so near - so close. For a moment, Cas closed his eyes, overwhelmed by how lucky he was to have this.

_ We’re gonna die one day, and you’re just gonna keep going… _

Cas felt his throat go tight, and he gripped Dean even tighter. 

The worst part was that Dean wasn’t wrong. There was going to be a day where Castiel didn’t have this anymore. These moments. This time. 

Castiel had so much time, and yet, so little.

“I’ll never forget you,” he said again, only this time it came out differently: a little bleaker - a lot quieter.

He pulled away from the hug. Dean’s arms opened slowly, reluctantly. Cas didn’t move far away, and Dean seemed contented to have Cas in his space. For a little while - or perhaps a long while, because no one was counting this, no one could - they simply watched each other. 

Worrying wasn’t going to get him anywhere. Besides, given the track record of the Winchesters and death, the fretting might all be for nothing. 

Cas smiled, ever so slightly. Dean saw it, and smiled back.

“You’d better not.”

It was enough.


End file.
